Heck to Pay
by dewturner
Summary: High Chaparral 1911. With the news of the murder of Wind's son Daniel, the men of the High Chaparral travel across country to claim Daniel's orphaned children.


Heck to Pay

By Diana Turner

Wind bent over his wife's head and kissed the back of her hair line as his tears dripped down the back of her neck. Charly dropped to Elizabeth's side. She held both Wind and Elizabeth to her.

Buck looked at the lieutenant and the consul. "I will take you and Diego to Benson." He raised his voice, "Mark! Mark!"

"Yeah, Uncle Buck?" Mark came from the study.

Anger filled Buck's face. "Mark, send a telegram to the railroad. Priority procedure to Tuskegee, Alabama."

"Yes, sir," Mark turned with the precision he had learned at the military academy.

"Mark!" Buck snapped. Mark turned back. "Send a telegram to Beau and Jeff, too. Tell them their nephew is dead and to meet us at Willcox."

"Yes, sir," Mark turned back toward the study – then back to Buck. "Sir? Can Matt and I go too?"

"That be up to your pa," Buck answered.

Blue answered, "Send a telegram to Luke to meet us in Willcox. And, if he happens to see Johnny, he can join us, too – if he wants. And have our cars readied also."

"Yes, sir!" Mark sprang into action.

Buck spoke, "Blue Boy, it might not be a good idea to leave the ranch deserted for this."

"Two weeks, you reckon?" Blue said. "Be like a trail drive."

Buck looked at his son and daughter-in-law, seeing in their intertwined grief his own pain, a pain even his happiness with Charly had not cured. He glanced at the lieutenant and the consul. The Blue Bellies had changed the look of their uniform and that helped in this instant. Buck walked the few steps to his son's chair and knelt arthritically next to Elizabeth. He wrapped his left arm around Wind's shoulders; his right arm he wrapped around Elizabeth's shoulders; his fingertips touched Charly's shoulders; he placed his head against his son's, mingling his pure white hair with Wind's salt-and-pepper gray.

The consul, believing they were praying, crossed himself.

When Buck raised his head, he didn't look at anyone as he spoke, "Blue, get a war party together. Sam will want to go – and his and Joe's boys. Get the other boys that knew Danny as a child."

In the morning, the family gathered at the table with the two doctors, the consul, and the lieutenant. Victoria asked, "Buck, I'd like to go with you."

"No, Victoria. I need you here," Buck answered. "If something goes wrong, you may need to go after Ophelia."

Victoria nodded but Margaret chimed in, "I'm going."

Wind snapped, "No, you are not. Aunt Victoria, make sure she stays here."

"I'm going!" Margaret stated.

Wind growled, "You are staying here. I, your father, have spoken."

Margaret appealed, "Mother?"

Buck jumped to his feet as fast as his arthritic limbs allowed – which was surprisingly fast at this moment. He grabbed Margaret by the upper arm and propelled her outside, dragging her as far away as the bunkhouse. At the bunkhouse, he spun her to face him, slamming her back against the bunkhouse wall. "You are not going! And you are not pitting your parents against each other!"

"Daniel's my brother!" Margaret cried.

"Yes. He is," Buck agreed.

Margaret's brown, almost black, eyes snapped, reminding Buck of the many arguments he'd had with her father, "Then I'm going! I am a grown woman!"

Buck shook her shoulder, "Yes, you are a full-growed Pawnee woman. And so you should understand this. The only reason your Ma and Grandma is going is because of the three young'uns. Otherwise, this be a war party. Made of the men of your Born-For Clan. It ain't no place for women. That be why the Born-For Clan is your father's clan. Because _men_ fights together. Not _women_. Do you understand?"

"You mean there's going to be actual fighting?" Margaret asked.

Buck nodded, "If the killers be what I'm afraid they be. And I know your pa fears the same. You will stay here. I, your grandfather, have spoken."

"Yes, sir. Can Andrew, at least, go?" she asked.

Buck started to shake his head, then answered, "Might be a need for a doctor. If he wants to go, I reckon he can."

"And Sebastian?"

"I sent a rider for Sebastian – and a telegram to your uncle Mano," Buck stated.

"And Teresa?" she asked.

Buck grinned. She understood – maybe better than he did – but she still tried to weasel her way into the war party. The Pawnee blood of her real grandmother gave her the understanding but the white blood of her grandfather gave her stubbornness. Cannon pride. Buck answered, "Teresa has been told she can't go either."

Margaret sighed. "All right. I'll stay."

Buck stepped onto the railed porch of his private railcar office and examined the back of his son's wheelchair. The war party was gathered in the office; the two women were in the family car; then there was Blue's private car; the dining and kitchen car; the livestock car in which the horses rode in as much luxury as horses could ride; a baggage car, a water tender, a coal car, and an engine made up the remainder of Buck's personal train. He'd had his office car designed with an enlarged porch area with a ramp that would be extended to the platform of any railway station to accommodate his son. However, the porch was not large enough for the war party: Sam, Joe, Mano, Blue, Matthew, Mark, Luke, Sebastian, Carlos, Andrew, Beau, Jeff, Sam's sons Tom and Dave, Joe's son's Ed, Frank, and Pete. There were also seven hands from the High Chaparral and the Rancho de Montoya who had known Danny Cannon as a child. They were all waiting for Wind.

Buck spoke, "You feeling better?"

"Yeah," Wind answered. Buck came beside him and touched his shoulder. Wind chuckled, "It's funny, Father. Blue gets sick in an automobile. I get sick on a train."

Buck patted his shoulder, wishing his son would call him "pa" rather than the formal Pawnee word for "father." "And John and me always got sick on boats. You feel up to going on with the war council?"

"Yeah," Wind moved his chair toward the door. They entered the office together.

"OK, Buck," Mano said. "I was surprised we all got to Willcox that fast. What do we do?"

Buck stood among them. "The telegram stated Danny and Oriana had been murdered. Wind, you got any ideas?"

"Danny had written of a group of men he called the Bed Sheet Men," Wind answered. "He said they call themselves the Ghosts of the Confederate Dead."

Buck growled, "Ghost of the Confederate Dead, my – " He shook his head. "Most of 'em wouldn't know Confederate from Yankee. The oldest of 'em is you and Blue's age. The most is young'uns. I've hired a few – and fired 'em. Mules is smarter 'an most of 'em."

"Uncle Buck," Blue laughed, "you think the mules are smarter than Wind and I!"

Buck looked at Blue, "No, Boy, I think you an' Wind is _stubborner_ 'an mules." Beau and Jeff, seated behind Buck, nudged each other. Without looking, Buck jerked his thumb toward his two younger sons, "Them two is _dumb_ as mules." He shook his head, "But these boys what I've seen as the Ghosts of the Confederate Dead is even dumber 'an them."

"Pa, what I've seen in Phoenix," Beau spoke, "is they usually have some older, smarter, sometimes wealthier man behind 'em."

Wind stated, "They are killers – " The train lurched over a bridge. Wind's stomach turned and his face paled.

Blue nodded, "Probably bad politicians – like Aldrich."

"Like Aldrich's sons," Joe stated. "You all right, Wind?"

Wind nodded.

Sam spoke, "Joe and me been talking. We figured the same thing. We come up with a plan."

Buck nodded, "Let's hear it."

"You let a bunch of us out at New Orleans. I'll take Tom and Pete; Joe'll take Ed and Dave. Frank and Old Mobley probably stand the best chance of finding out something. Since they helped Sheriff Jackson round up that bunch that threatened the Chinese at Flux Mine, they know the secret handshake. I figure Bobby and Jim can go with Larsen. That makes four directions for us to go into Tuskegee from. I also figure we should aim at meeting up with you in Montgomery or Columbus after you have the children."

"What about us?" Sebastian asked.

"Yeah," Carlos said. "We don't have Mexican accents."

Sam shook his head, "You're family. Family needs to show a united front. If we're right."

"Sam's right," Mano stated. "If they want to attack the train once Wind has the children." He nodded at the three men from the Rancho de Montoya, "They are our extra guns."

Wind couldn't believe this was happening. Daniel, his eldest son, had been murdered; his three small grandchildren had been orphaned; this war party formed to rescue the children on the belief the murderers had acted in hate. Pain such as he hadn't felt since his mother died surged through him, cutting his heart into bite-sized pieces. He and Elizabeth had lost two other sons – one to snakebite and one to illness – but those deaths did not eat his spirit like this one. He had tried so hard all of his life to hate no one. But this – the pain in his spirit, the dull glazed look in his woman's eyes, the anger burning in the faces of his father and brothers – he had never experienced this. He found it hard not to hate, specifically, not to hate white men in general. He spoke softly, "So, Sam, if we identify the leader, what do we do with him?"

Joe spoke, "I say we have Reece send him a job offer and, when he shows up at the High Chaparral, we take him out in the desert, strip him, and tie him over a fire ant nest."

"You've been around the Apache too long," Wind stated. "That is not the Pawnee way."

Sam asked, "What's the Pawnee way?"

"He would be tried by the women. Whatever the verdict, the men would carry out. He would probably be killed quickly – unless the victim were raped. Then a shaman would use a ceremonial flint knife to surgically remove his manhood," Wind explained.

"Ouch," several of the men spoke together.

"Surgically?" Andrew asked. "I didn't think Indians performed surgery."

Wind looked at Andrew, "How do you think we got bullets out of people? Of course, Pawnee don't use ether or chloroform."

Andrew flinched, "So was Oriana . . . .?"

"Don't know yet," Wind answered.

Andrew nodded, "If so, I guess I'll have to be the shaman."

"Nope," Buck stated. "We got a Pawnee – "

"Let's find out if she was dishonored first," Wind interrupted.

Sam nodded, "Agreed. Let's concentrate on finding out who did it."

"Splitting up works. Let's meet in Columbus," Buck stated. "We have to turn around to come back anyway."

The train lurched. Wind grabbed a spittoon that sat on the table next to him. "I'm going back outside," he growled.

Three days later, the train, eleven men lighter, pulled into Tuskegee, Alabama. The sun was low in the sky but Booker T. Washington, the head of the Tuskegee Institute, stood waiting on the platform. Sebastian and Carlos lowered the specially designed ramp to the station platform.

Buck stuck out his hand, "Dr. Washington. Come on up."

Dr. Washington and a small black boy about 10 years of age ascended the ramp. He grasped Buck's hand. "Mr. Cannon. I'm so sorry to meet you again under these circumstances."

"Come in," Buck led the two through his office into the family's car.

Elizabeth stood on her tiptoes. "Where are the children?"

"Mrs. Cannon," Dr. Washington walked to her. Gently he took her cold hands into his. Then he shook Wind's hand. "Mr. Cannon. I am so terribly sorry." He greeted Charly by grasping her hands, "Mrs. Cannon." He looked at them with tears in his brown eyes. "You have no idea just how terrible I feel." He introduced the small boy, "This is Malachi. His mother works at the hotel. He'll be able to show you where they are." He shook his head. "I'm sorry. Two women from the Carlisle School for Indians came to the house this morning with the sheriff. They had paperwork from the Bureau of Indian Affairs and claimed custody of the children. They're at the hotel – with a deputy. I tried to tell them you were coming but they said it didn't matter. The Bureau of Indian Affairs has automatic custody of orphaned Indian children."

Beau and Wind nodded. Beau spoke, "Unless the family members claiming the children have renounced their tribe and assimilated." He looked at Wind, "Big Brother, do you have your paperwork?"

Wind nodded. Elizabeth patted his shoulder. "I'll get it."

"Never mind, Elizabeth. Great-grampa be claiming them and he be a white man," Buck stated. "Beau, Jeff, Blue, Matthew, and Mark. You all come with me. The rest of you, stay here." He looked at Dr. Washington, "It's gettin' on toward dark. Will you accept my invitation to spend the night here with my family?"

Dr. Washington hesitated before he answered, "Thank you, sir."

Buck looked at the small boy, "So you know where they are?"

"Yes, sir," the boy answered.

Buck touched the boy's head, "Then lead the way."

In the hotel, on the second floor, the child stopped before a door and pointed at it. Buck nodded and patted the child's head. He gave him a little push, which the other men repeated until the child was behind all of them. Buck knocked on the door.

A woman's voice answered, "Who is it?"

"Buck Cannon, ma'am," Buck answered.

A child's terrified voice echoed in the hotel hallway, "Grampa!" This was followed by the child's scream, "No! Grampa!"

Buck yelled, "Mildred!"

"Grampa!" the child screamed.

"Open this door 'fore I bust it down!" Buck bellowed like an enraged bull.

"Just a moment. Please," the woman's voice answered above the screams of the terrified child.

The door opened. The little girl in a white dress with navy blue trim and a Cracker Jack collar, her raven black hair, long and straight, held from her face with a big white ribbon fought for her freedom. She bit the arm of the other woman, who attempted to control her. The girl ran, dodged the woman who had opened the door, and skidded to a stop behind Buck. Jeff grabbed her and passed her to his cousin behind him as Buck reached into the room, snatching the three year old boy who was trying to follow his sister from the room. "Beau, get the baby!" Buck snarled.

"No!" the woman who had opened the door snapped and the deputy sheriff appeared behind her.

"Who are you?" the deputy sheriff asked.

His jaw muscles tight from his effort to remain civil, Buck answered, "Name's Buck Cannon. These are my great-grandchildren. Their grandfather on their daddy's side is my son."

"Adopted or blood?" the older woman asked.

Buck answered, "Blood."

"Then the children belong with him," the deputy stated firmly.

The older woman answered, "I cannot release the children to him without proof and without knowing into what sort of home they will be going."

Buck invited, "Then come with me and meet the family."

"Very well," the woman agreed. "Miss Lydia, come with us. Mr. Calhoun, will you accompany us?"

The deputy answered, "I'd be honored, Mrs. Rogers."

Jeff picked up the three year old and crooned, "Danny Boy, you're getting big."

Beau stepped beside the younger woman called Miss Lydia and said, "I know Davy's getting heavy. I'll carry him for you."

Miss Lydia surrendered the dark little boy dressed in a white baby dress to the blond young man as the deputy spoke to a shadow hiding behind Mark, "Is that you, Malachi Johnson?"

"Yes, sir," the little black boy answered.

The deputy reached in his front pocket and pulled out a coin, which he tossed at Malachi. "Go fetch the sheriff and Judge Mason. Bring them to wherever Mr. Cannon is staying."

"Yes, sir!" little Malachi ran.

Mano watched out the car window. He hated to admit he worried. Buck should no longer be involved in things like this. A man in his eighties should not be forced to fight to regain his family. He saw the movement and sighed in relief. "They are coming – with the children! They have two women and a – a deputy with them."

The door opened. The little girl in the white dress with the sailor collar shot across the car with a cry, the Pawnee word rolled off her tongue with ease, "Grandfather!" She threw herself into Wind's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Button," Wind murmured as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, as Jeff handed Danny to his own mother Charly and Elizabeth retrieved Davy from Beau.

The little girl sobbed and buried her face in Wind's suit jacket. Her sobs became the wail of a frightened and lost child who has found her way home. Wind stroked her raven black hair and rocked gently, whispering softly, "Mildred. My little Button. It's all right. You're safe now. Shhhh, my little Button."

Danny wrapped his little arms around Charly's neck and howled.

Elizabeth spoke to Charly, yelling about the din, "Let's take the boys into the bedroom."

Charly nodded and the two women disappeared into the other part of the car.

Mano spoke, "There's two men coming."

The two newcomers walked up the ramp and knocked on the door jamb of the open door.

"Come in," Buck invited.

The two men removed their hats as they entered the car. The elder of the two introduced them. "I'm Judge Mason. This is the sheriff. How can I help you?"

"Judge," Beau stepped forward, cutting off Buck's angry words. "My name's Beauregard Cannon, duly appointed member of the Bar of the Territory of Arizona. This is my father Buck Cannon. My big brother Nathan," he pointed at Wind. He pointed next at Jeff, "My younger brother Jefferson. My cousin William, his uncle Manolo de Montoya and Uncle Mano's sons Sebastian and Carlos. Cousin William's sons Matthew, Mark, and Luke. We came to claim Nathan's grandchildren Mildred, Daniel, and David Cannon." He nodded toward the two ladies, "Judge, I understand you've given custody to the Bureau of Indian Affairs school in Carlisle but I'd ask you to reconsider, seeing as their grandfather is half white and has renounced the Pawnee nation; their grandmother is a white woman; their aunts are married to or soon will marry white men."

The older lady spoke, "Judge, if they provide proof to your satisfaction, the Bureau of Indian Affairs will release them to the custody of their grandfather."

The judge nodded, "I'll sign the paperwork in the morning."

The sheriff spoke to the deputy, "She say anything yet?"

"Not about the murders but she has spoken," the deputy answered.

The sheriff walked to Wind's chair and touched the child's hair. "Honey, can you tell me what happened?"

Mildred took her face from Wind's jacket. She looked at the sheriff and pushed herself tightly against Wind as she answered, "It was two students from the Institute. Mama said they were Creeks. Papa said they couldn't read or write good. He and Mama were tutoring them after supper. Mama said they didn't know how to raise their two children to be white. She said their children should go to Carlisle like she did. Papa wrote a letter to Carlisle. Those two," she looked at the two women, "those two took their children at Easter break. Papa helped convince them to give the children up. Papa said his students returned from break very unhappy, though." She sniffed. "They killed Papa and Mama! They – they took their hair!" She wailed and buried her face into Wind's jacket once again.

A gasp came from the doorway of the other room. "It's all right, Elizabeth," Charly spoke, encircling Elizabeth in her arms and leading her to the sofa.

Mrs. Rogers looked at the sheriff. "We had just returned from gaining custody of those children when the letter arrived at Carlisle about these three. That's why I apologized for taking so long, Dr. Washington. It's been almost a month since you sent the letter."

"I didn't send any letter. And Dr. and Mrs. Cannon were murdered only five days ago," Dr. Washington stated. "That sounds like someone was planning this murder."

The sheriff stood, "You said a letter came, Mrs. Rogers?"

"Yes. It was typed on Tuskegee Institute letterhead stationery and signed, we thought, by Dr. Washington himself," she answered.

Dr. Washington shook his head. "No, ma'am. As soon as I knew about the murders, I sent a telegram to the Cannon family. And, like I said, that was five days ago. A month?"

The sheriff asked, "Do you have a copy of that letter, Mrs. Rogers?"

"No, sir. They do have a copy at the school," she stated.

The sheriff turned to Dr. Washington, "From what's been said, can you identify these two students?"

"I never would have thought," Dr. Washington said. "Mr. and Mrs. McGhee. They're Creeks from Poarch. The Poarch Tribal Council sent them up to the Institute. They haven't been seen on campus since the murders." He shook his head. "In fact, the house mistress where they've been living said something to me yesterday about all their belongings having been taken." He shook his head again. "Sheriff, I owe you an apology. I have to confess, I thought it was the Ghosts of the Confederate Dead."

"Nothing to apologize about, Dr. Washington," the sheriff answered. "I was thinking the same thing – and that there was going to be a disciplinary action in the ranks. The killings weren't sanctioned – according to my sources. But I'll tell you. I served in the Army in the 1898 war against Spain. In the Philippines, I saw some real scalping. Whoever killed Mrs. Cannon," he shook his head, "didn't know how. It surprises me it was Indians."

Wind took a deep breath, "I was held slave by the Pawnee and I don't think I know how to take a scalp." He glanced over Mildred's head at Elizabeth. "At least not ceremoniously."

Buck looked at the sheriff, "You will search for the killers, won't you? After all, Daniel was three quarters white."

"Oh, yes. I'll send a telegram down to the government at Atmore," the sheriff said. "The Poarch Band is usually good at cooperating with the law." He looked at Elizabeth and Wind, "Maybe you'd like some time before you decide – whether you're leaving the bodies here or taking them back to be buried at home."

Elizabeth spoke, "I'd like to see where they're buried first."

The sheriff nodded, "I'll escort you there in the morning. It's a nice cemetery with trees and grass. The Institute ordered nice headstones – of course, they haven't been delivered yet. The town would be honored if you'd leave them stay. Dr. and Mrs. Cannon were well-liked in this town."

Wind looked at Mrs. Rogers, "Between the Carlisle School with Oriana and us with Daniel, we did a good job raising them. They died white men. You decide about the cemetery, Elizabeth." He gave Mildred a little squeeze, "You know what? Mr. Michaels made the most delicious ice cream for supper tonight. I'll bet he has some left over for a sad little girl. Want to find out?"

She nodded. He turned the chair around and headed toward the kitchen car.

Hours later, Elizabeth awoke and reached for Wind. She did not find him. She rose and saw him sitting in his chair beside the bed containing the three children. Her bare feet moved silently on the wooden floorboards of the bedroom as she balanced against the moving train. She touched Wind's shoulder gently. Wind reached up and covered her hand with his as he picked up her band and brought it to his lips. She whispered, "Are you coming to bed, my husband?"

"No," he answered, never taking his eyes from the three children sleeping in the bed beside which he sat. "I've been sitting here, thinking. All the things we did, the sacrifices we made - even lies told - to keep Daniel with us until he was old enough to be a man. He chose the military academy, the University of Pennsylvania, the College of William and Mary, even his doctorate studies at Oxford. But he was a Pawnee man with a Pawnee name while doing those studies. There were no beating for speaking Pawnee, English, or Spanish. He studied Latin, German, French, and some Russian. His love of language is why he studied literature and earned that Doctor of Philosophy behind his name. I just don't understand."

"What don't you understand, my husband?" Elizabeth asked.

"He knew from Oriana how children are treated at Carlisle. How could he send children there? Knowing they would be forced to give up their language, their ways? I just don't understand."

"I don't either, Husband," she whispered in Pawnee. "But I know you need sleep."

"Maybe later," he whispered. "I wouldn't be able to sleep right now, anyway."


End file.
